


Haunted by whom?

by MaidenM



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Monster Reaper, brief PTSD moment, widower Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 20:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenM/pseuds/MaidenM
Summary: There where rumors that the old house was haunted. Being little more than a ghost of his past self, that suited Jack just fine.Part 1: First Meeting of the MonsterR76 zine "The monster in your closet"!





	Haunted by whom?

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue by Akiko Natsuko [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monster76Zine/works/14677416)

Jack tried not to think of the house too much.

 

It was an old thing, walls worn and creaking floors. The roof leaked in multiple spots and was even at risk of collapsing at one point. Not a single window was whole when he moved in. A lot of the furniture had rot and had to be thrown out. He was suspicious of a black spot on one of the walls as well.

 

 _'Can't be healthy'_ he thought as he stepped outside and lit a cigarette. "'Cursed and haunted' my ass" he sighed after his first drag.

 

Old, worn, filled with corruption that ate away at it, unwanted by anyone and possibly dangerous just by being near...

 

He tried not to think of how similar they were.

 

He took another drag, making out the shape of something in the corner of his eye. He didn't look, there was rarely something there. It went away after a few seconds. He let out a puff of smoke as he stepped over to the side on the house. Jack dared to smile a bit at his progress. At least the sounds were getting less frequent.

 

The little house was far, far away from the closest town. A fact that had been instrumental in his decision to buy it. He had to admit it was easier to focus on himself here, just at the edge of the woods where no one would bother him unexpectedly. In a way, he had come full circle. Born a farm-boy, and once he'd gotten his garden and maybe a chicken coop set up he'd die like one.

 

It was fitting, he supposed. The supposedly haunted house the last home of a washed-up soldier. Far away from anyone who could hurt him. Anyone he could hurt. Just him and his memories, and memories weren't real. They couldn't hurt him.

 

He walked round the corner of the house and stopped dead in his tracks. Apparently, some of the local wildlife didn't like his garden.

 

Jack was no stranger to vermin. Back at his family's farm he had practiced his aim years before he joined the army on the critters who were too dumb or desperate to understand their crops were off-limits. It had been a necessary evil, one he didn't know if he was glad he learned early or if it left him cold with how much more evil deeds he had to commit for the greater good later in his life.

 

He had, however, never seen a gopher or a rabbit or even a deer do damage like _this_.

 

“Fucking hell,” he sighed as he looked over the damage. The soil was messy, but not as much as he expected it to be. The few crops that had been sprouting were uprooted and even the little signs and poles he had put up to keep the crops organized were...

 

Destroyed?

 

Animals always left a certain kind of chaos behind them. The more Jack looked at his former vegetable garden, the less it looked like the work of an animal.

 

The soldier in him tensed up slightly, thoughts of teenage hoodlums and punks coming to mess with the old man who moved into the haunted house came to him first along with the responses he thought he would have for them if he caught them in the act.

 

 _Teenagers generally don't have hooves tough,_ a tiny voice whispered.

 

Jack looked over the ground. Deep tracks littered the soil, much too deep to be a animal of normal weight.

 

“What the hell?” Jack mumbled to himself as he studied the indentations.

 

A movement made his gaze snap up. For a moment he was back in the field, franticly scanning for anyone, _anything_ that might be dangerous or in danger. The moment passed as quickly as it came, leaving him looking towards the woods and the branches dancing softly in the breeze.

 

 _'Just the wind, Jack'_ he thought to himself.

 

It was probably nothing. It was probably just a beast of an animal. It was probably for the best to let it go and go back to cleaning out the house.

 

What was it Gabriel had said? Something about never doing the smart thing and always letting himself get too curious or invested. Something about how he should learn to sit back and let others deal with it.

 

Well. Gabriel wasn't around to keep him in line anymore.

 

Jack walked into the woods.

 

*

 

The woods were dense and dark, even though is was still midday. It was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Forests had a tendency to be silent as a thousand whispers, everything at the edge of hearing yet a constant susurrus to tease one's ears.

 

So far, Jack hadn't even heard a branch snap.

 

His fingers trailed over the bark of a tree, brows furrowed in confused fascination. The surface was damaged, clearly the result of a deer rubbing against the tree.

 

Only... deers should not be able to reach over 6 feet from the ground. And they generally didn't leave what was looking a lot like claw-marks halfway up the trunk.

 

 _'I'm going crazy, aren't I?'_ Jack thought, even as his fingers dipped into the lines that crossed the bark. _'There's no animal that could have done this, it's all in my head...'_

 

The old veteran shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. There was always an explanation somewhere. This was just like the shadows that danced at the edge of his vision, or the noises he thought he could still hear when everything was quiet. Everything that was unreasonable in real life... only existed in his head.

 

He turned, fully intending to return to the old house, to get back to his life of normalcy and solitude, when something caught his attention. A glint of something in the branches of a bush.

 

Crouching down, Jack let his hand explore between the leaves. In the shadow of the foliage, a thin, golden chain hung haphazardly from one of the branches. Carefully, Jack pulled it off and let the chain rest in the palm of his hand. It was cold, slightly dirty but beautiful in its simplicity. He nudged it slightly with his thumb, taking in the texture of the metal with a slight surprise.

 

“Real, huh?” he said to himself as he toyed with the chain absent-mindedly.

 

He looked back at the rubbings, the claw-marks. The chain moved slightly under the pad of his thumb, grounding him. Solidifying the moment.

 

Jack stood up, giving the trees one last critical glance before walking back the way he came.

 

*

 

_Leave_

 

Jack jerked awake, eyes dancing wildly to take in his surroundings. The smell of mud and gunfire clung to his mind, dragging his conscious down, down into a pit within himself.

 

_You're not wanted here_

 

He gasped for air, trembling as his hands searched for his gun, a blunt object, _anything_ he could use as a weapon.

 

_Thief_

 

His hand hit something, a smooth surface, grazing ever so gently against something cold. His breath was stuck in his throat, a staccato rhythm ringing in his ear and Gabriel---

 

Gabriel wasn't here. No one was with him.

 

_You're all alone, soldier_

 

His fingers closed around the cold object, thin golden links pressing into his skin as he gripped it hard. The chain. He put it on his nightstand before going to bed. He was home, not out in the field, he was safe and...

 

_You're not safe_

 

Jack stumbled out of bed, clutching his head as a deep voice seemed to speak directly into his mind. Gripping the piece of jewellry tighter he tried to ground himself to the present. This was a panic attack, he's had them before. There was no gunfire, no eerie presence taunting him, it was all in his mind. Focus on breathing, remember that the panic is the worst of it. Nothing will happen, the anxiety will ebb out and it will all seem so stupid, stupid...

 

_Surrender..._

 

Images danced in his head. His squad, Gabriel, his house, his gun, the chain. As much as he tried to gulp down lungfuls of air everything seemed to swim before him. He remembered hands reaching for him, grasping at him, calling out for him but he couldn't move.

 

“This isn't real...” he reminded himself, glaring at the visions masquerading as reality. The hands, the smoke, a dark figure in the doorway. Glints of gold and purple surrounding a stag's skull.

 

_Mine..._

 

“This isn't real!” Jack screamed as he surged up and threw a punch at the spectre.

 

To his surprise, his fist connected with the skull.

 

A sickening crack followed by an almost unholy wail pierced through the haze of his mind. The shadow, the creature in front of him writhed, desperately holding it's skull as it flailed. The smoke that clouded Jack's eyes as well as his mind flowed into the being, it's horrid screech like nails on a chalkboard.

 

 _'Real,'_ he thought, the golden chain twisted around his hand.

 

The floorboards shook as the being stumbled, large cloven hooves bearing down like thunder as it regained its footing. Jack laughed, a short humorless laugh as he watched smoke pour out of the crack of the skull.

 

The thing barely had time to flinch before he punched it again.

 

It wailed once more, its body dissolving into dark smoke before twisting and coiling in on itself, seeking out cracks in the floorboards and walls to flee through. In the stillness left behind, Jack stood breathing heavily, the only proof of the creature's presence the marks from it's hooves and claws, tufts of purple fur and a lingering ache in Jack's knuckles.

 

The old veteran sank down to his knees, a breathy laugh bubbling up from his chest as he took stock of the situation. Panic attacks were difficult. Leaving the past behind, even harder...

 

Monsters? Monsters he could handle.

 

*

 

It was near morning and the lights had not yet gone dark in the old house. Sharp claws scratched the surface of the tree where Reaper stood just at the edge of the woods, observing him newfound predicament.

 

Smoke still wafted from the crack in his skull, a reminder that the human wasn't just strangely brave, he was strong too.

 

Reaper let out a curse, one older than civilization.

 

'He comes _here_ , into _my_ woods, _taking_ what is _mine_!' the creature thought as its claws tore the bark from the tree under its hand. A shadow flitted back and forth in the windows of the house, the human was no doubt preparing for Reaper's return.

 

For a brief moment, the shadow stopped. It stood there, silhouetted in the window making Reaper feel strangely exposed. Then, it waved.

 

Wood splintered beneath Reaper's talons as it let out a cry of anger.

 

“I will claim you, human!” Reaper vowed into the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 by Akiko Natsuko [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monster76Zine/works/14678628)


End file.
